


Quoting at Kaer Morhen

by IndigoDream



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alive Renfri | Shrike (The Witcher), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Food, Innuendo, Jaskier | Dandelion and Renfri | Shrike are Siblings, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Injuries, Modern Continent (The Witcher), More characters to be added, Multi, Time Travel, server events, variety of tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoDream/pseuds/IndigoDream
Summary: Drabbles for the anniversary of the TAKM server ! Featuring OCs, softness, sweetness, and lots of crack
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel (The Witcher)/Original Male Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 32
Kudos: 47
Collections: TAKM Anniversary 2021





	1. Geralt is a protagonist in a dollar bin Barbie horse game

"Jask, I love you," Renfri starts, and immediately her brother knows what she is about to say will not be the most pleasant thing in the world. "But are you sure about him?" 

She gestures towards the fields where Geralt is training one of his horses, its rider a young man with enough experience that Geralt has agreed to let him ride the horse he hopes would win him competitions in the next few years. 

Dara is a good rider, Jaskier has to admit that. He himself is a terrible one; it doesn't help that he isn't exactly fond of horses. He likes them just fine! They simply tend to make him somewhat nervous. 

"Why are you asking that?" 

"You're about to marry the guy," Renfri points out. "I think it's a fair question." 

"You like Geralt just fine! You were the one who introduced us." 

Renfri sighs. "Technically it was Yen. You're not going to blame my wife for her dubious choice in ex-boyfriends?" 

"I'm not blaming anyone, but I love Geralt. What brought this on? You've known about my plan to propose for weeks!" 

She sighs, pushing back a strand of hair. Dressed in a loose red blouse and black jeans ripped at the knees, she is a mix of her past and present, the piercings on her lips and nose further proof of the less than perfect image she has. It fits with her job though; bartender at the local club, Renfri is tough and full of snark. 

"I know, I know," she sighs, and looks back to where Geralt is talking to the horse, a young stallion with a deep brown coat. "It's just..." 

At the way she trails off, he groans. "What is it? Spit it out, Ren." 

"Well, don't you think... that Geralt is well..." 

"Renfri I will throw my lemonade in your face if you don't say it right now." 

"He is a protagonist in a dollar bin Barbie horse game, Jask!" 

For a fleeting, beautiful second, Jaskier is at loss for words. He is still trying to understand what exactly she means by that when the urge to giggle overtake him. It starts low in his stomach before growing to his throat and making a few tears of joy pearling at his eyes. 

"What?" He manages to ask in between two rounds of giggles, and Renfri looks slightly embarrassed. "Renfri, what the hell?" 

"Well it's true!" She defends herself, crossing her arms. "Look at him!" 

Jaskier turns to look at his fiancé and smiles. Geralt is caressing the horse and talking with Dara, looking serious but peaceful, and fondness washes over Jaskier. 

"I'm looking. I think you're underselling him by saying dollar bin Barbie. I think he could make big bucks as a proper Barbie protagonist." 

Renfri groans loudly and reclines on her chair, grabbing her own lemonade and sipping on it. 

"You're really gone on him, isn't it?" 

Jaskier shrugs. "He's the love of my life." 

"Ugh fine, your wedding is going to be perfect and beautiful and you're going to sob the whole time." 

"I sure will." Jaskier smiles. "Be my maid of honor?" 

"You sappy fucker," she says as an agreement. 

Jaskier grins and turns his head back to Geralt, watching him. Protagonist of a dollar bin Barbie horse game uh? 

"Hey what does that make of me if Geralt is the protagonist?" 

Renfri rolls her eyes and doesn't answer.


	2. If there is room for the heart, there is room for the butt

"He is _massive_ ," Eskel whispers faintly, and Geralt realizes that he is admirative. "Look at him! That's a mountain of a man." 

Geralt looks where he is pointing and groans. His brother is seemingly ensnared by a man at the other end of the room. He's sitting with a much smaller and slimmer man, and they are both chatting happily. 

"Looks like he is taken," Geralt grunts and turns back to his bass, making sure it's properly tuned. "Are you ready or not?"

"It could just be a friend!" 

Lambert slides up closer to them, leaving his beloved drum set for once. "What's up?"

"Eskel is ogling a man," Geralt answers drily. 

"Who?" 

"Big guy in the back, with a beard and a twink next to him."

Eskel groans. "Gee, thanks Geralt." 

Lambert laughs, slapping his brother on the shoulder and turns to look where Geralt indicated. He lets out a low whistle and grins. 

"Damn Eskel, he is huge. Bet a guy like that could take you."

Eskel is slowly growing beet red and he slaps Lambert's head, annoyed. 

"Shut the fuck up." 

"What, it's true! He is what, two meters tall? Probably more. The guy next to him though..." 

"More your build," Eskel teases. "He's cute too." 

"Too small for you," Geralt grunts. "Can we focus on the music?" 

"You can talk, last time your boyfriend came to one of our sets you two made out until the minute before we had to start." 

"Jaskier is distracting," Geralt defends himself weakly. "And you aren't dating those guys in the back." 

"For now," Lambert grins before slinking back to his seat as the lights dim. 

_The Wolves_ are a semi-popular folk band now, and this is their favorite place to play, mostly for the casual ambiance and the fact that no crazy fans ever show up here. Geralt appreciates that the owner agreed to tighter security for that; Eskel's scars were the earliest proof of insanity from some fans, and though it's been years since then, they prefer being cautious regardless. 

The set goes fine. It's not their best, but it is a good one and the three of them are somewhat saddened when they have to get off stage. There is a rush that comes with being on the stage and having people's attention, not because of the way they look, but purely because of their music, that Geralt adores. 

He is packing up his equipments when he receives a text from Jaskier, letting him know he is in the room with a few friends. He groans when he sees who he is with. 

"What's going on?" Lambert asks, looking where Geralt is looking, and then he grins. "How wonderful." 

"Don't you dare-" 

"Eskel! Get your ass over here, Geralt is going to introduce us!" 

_Wonderful_ , Geralt sighs. 

Lambert and Eskel grin at him, almost predatory, and Geralt starts walking. 

Jaskier is, of course, talking with the two men Eskel and Lambert had been watching earlier. The big one seems quieter than Jaskier and the other, but as they walk closer Geralt can see him saying something that causes Jaskier to laugh loudly. 

"Geralt!" Jaskier launches himself at his boyfriend and Geralt catches him swiftly. "You were amazing." 

"Hmm." 

Jaskier grins and kisses him deeply. They don't separate until Lambert jostles them with a groan. 

"Stop snogging each other for a second and introduce us." 

Jaskier chuckles a bit and nods. "Right, sorry boys. Geralt, this is Aiden, we were roommates in my first year of college, and this is Bartek, they met when Aiden went on a dig in Siberia. Aiden, Bartek, those are _The Wolves_ : Geralt, my wonderful boyfriend, Eskel, the loveliest singer, and Lambert, the prickly sidekick." 

"I am not a sidekick," Lambert grumbles. 

"You don't argue the prickly part then?" Aiden smiles, slow and lazy, twirling his cocktail. "How interesting." 

Lambert smirks back. "I could show you more interesting." 

"Easy tiger," Aiden grins. "Why don't you start by buying me a drink?" 

Geralt groans and tunes the two out, although he ends up regretting it as he sees that Eskel and Bartek are talking. If Eskel had been red earlier, this is a new shade Geralt doesn't know. Though, he does smile confidently and leans in to whisper something to the man, who grins back. 

"You have interesting friends, Jaskier," Bartek says. "I think I'll stay in your city longer than planned." 

Jaskier grins. "How surprising." 

Bartek shrugs and tugs Eskel closer. Geralt's brother has no more shame; he grabs the beer waiting in front of the man and sits himself on his lap. Geralt rolls his eyes. 

"You know what they say," Bartek grins and his hand wanders to Eskel's thighs. "If there is room for the heart, there's room for the butt." 

Geralt chokes slightly on air and gives Jaskier a startled look. His boyfriend doesn't explain further, simply patting his shoulder and kissing his cheek. 

"I'll get you a drink, babe," Jaskier says and leaves Geralt's side. 

What the fuck is going on?


	3. Your diet is only second to cannibalism in having no rights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in the same verse as the previous drabble !

"Lambert," Aiden's concerned voice reaches the drummer as he is finishing up preparing his meal. "What the fuck are you doing?" 

Looking up, Lambert shrugs. "Having an early dinner? We have a set tonight and I don't want to be hungry all night long." 

"Babe, is that what you call dinner?" 

Aiden, in an open silk robe with dark jeans on, looks positively sinful, and Lambert takes a second and a half to admire before answering. His boyfriend (and what an interesting thrill to say this) is staring back at him sternly, crossing his arms. 

"What is wrong with it?" 

Sighing, the archeologist grabs the plate and removes it from where it waited to be eaten. 

"You're not eating this trash," he says. "How have you survived this long?" 

Lambert shrugs. "Eskel and Geralt usually cook enough for the three of us. But they are both busy, and Geralt moved out so. I'm cooking for myself now." 

"That's not cooking, that's throwing food on a plate and hoping it doesn't give you food poisoning." 

"I've had that before!" 

"It's really a miracle you're still alive." 

"Egg, chocolate, ham and pineapple is a fine meal!" 

Aiden groans, pulling food out of the refrigerator. 

"You do realize that your egg wasn't cooked right?" 

"I like them underdone," Lambert protests, crossing his arms. "It wets the chocolate and ham." 

"If you weren't so hot I would dump you right now." 

Lambert grins and stands up, coming behind Aiden to hold him in his arms. The archeologist sighs a bit, but allows the touch, putting his head on Lambert’s shoulder. 

“You still love me,” Lambert hums in his ear, dropping a kiss to his forehead. “Despite my horrible diet.” 

“Your diet is only second to cannibalism in having no rights.” 

A startled laugh leaves Lambert and he kisses his forehead again. “How do you say shit like that so casually?” 

“Try being in digs with a bunch of history nerds for months at a time, you’ll see.” 

“Maybe I should do that then,” Lambert grins. “Could fix my diet if I came with you at your next project.” 

“How romantic,” Aiden hums, but his pleased grin doesn’t escape Lambert. 

He’ll have to talk with his brothers, but it might be something to consider. 


	4. Geralt has the self-preservation of a turnip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geraskefer with injured Geralt? I've got you babes

The witcher is trudging through the mud, a deep gash into his leg letting out blood slowly and surely, when the portal wraps around him. It’s a strange sensation, one he hates despite how used to it he is, and he groans as he lands on the hard ground. By instinct, Geralt grabs his steel sword and draws it out, baring his teeth at his opponent. 

Holding a glass of red wine and looking bored, Yennefer levels him with a glare. 

“Put that down, you’re going to hurt yourself.” 

“Yen,” he groans, standing up slowly. His stomach is still reeling from the experience. “What do you want?” 

“Your bard said you went to fight what could be three fiends without being sure if you had enough potions. He can be very, very annoying.” 

“Jaskier is here?” 

“Hi Geralt!” Jaskier’s head pops from the door and the bard waves. “Yen said I wasn’t allowed in the room while she was doing her magic thing.” 

“Don’t call me Yen,” the sorceress hisses at the bard. “We aren’t friends.” 

Jaskier walks in and pouts. “Aw come on! We are over this now. You can stop pretending you don’t like me.” 

“I _don’t_ ,” Yennefer protests. “Get out of this room.” 

“Geralt needs me though, look at him! He’s wounded.” 

“It’s his own fault if he is wounded.” 

At that, the witcher hums a bit, watching their antics with a slight smile. Those two like to put on a show of not liking each other, and while Jaskier has put an end to it recently, Yennefer still maintains that she despises the bard. It’s hard to believe her when she casts tender looks to the bard when she thinks no one is looking. 

“We both know Geralt has the self-preservation of a turnip,” Jaskier says, putting his hands on his hips. “That’s why I travel with him!” 

“I have what now?” Geralt grumbles. 

“The self-preservation of a turnip, keep up dearest,” Jaskier repeats, as if those words are perfectly normal and _not_ an insult. 

“You are shit protection if that’s why you travel with me.” 

“I travel with you because I love you, but someone needs to keep an eye on you and whenever I think you are being silly, I call Yen!” 

Geralt groans, sitting on a chair as his leg starts hurting more. At that, the mage walks closer and examines the wound, prodding and observing for a few seconds before standing back up silently. Jaskier comes closer to Geralt and smiles gently, placing a kiss to the crown of his witcher’s hair. 

“How are you?” Jaskier finally asks, brushing away dirt from his lover’s face. “Any other wounds we should look at?” 

A shake of his head is enough to satisfy the bard, who steps aside to let Yen clean the wound before she applies a salve, casting a simple enough spell to help the healing along. After that, she gives Geralt a gentle kiss, long and drawn out, and her fingers caress his cheek. 

“Don’t scare us like that again,” she whispers softly, and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“I’ll try not to.” 

“Jaskier is right, you know. You do have the self-preservation of a turnip.” 

The bard grins from the other side of the room, where he retreated to get clean clothes for Geralt. “You do like me!” 

Yennefer rolls her eyes, Geralt the only one to see, but she is smiling ever so slightly. It’s nice to see her again, and even nicer to see she is slowly falling for Jaskier as well. They might have a proper shot at a future together.


	5. girl witchers? in this economy?

Ciri is training, her focus on the training dummy in front of her. The sword in her hand is her own; Jaskier had crafted it for her last summer during his tour with the fair. Geralt had been opposed to it, but she had been strong-headed enough that he had relented and allowed the bard to give her the weapon. She is old enough to train now, more than so, considering that Geralt had started his training at 8 and she is going to be 15 in a week and a half. Ten days until her birthday, ten days until Yennefer is going to come back and take her to learn more about the Chaos she wields. The very thought of it makes her skin abuzz with excitement. 

Taking them to this new world, this new century, had taken everything out of her. Kaer Morhen had left the thirteenth century to materialize in the twenty-first century three years ago now, and she was only regaining her abilities now. It had been a few harrowing years for everyone. The first year, she had been mostly bedridden, and there are few memories that aren’t blinded by pain and fever. Now that she is apt to moving again, Ciri isn’t keen on ever stopping again. 

Someone huffs behind her, and she turns to see Robbie watching her. The other teen’s arms are crossed as she leans against the castle walls, and she blows her gum, letting it explode with a loud snap. Ciri hates that she finds the whole routine attractive. There is just something so… infuriating about Robbie. 

The girl is Yennefer’s and Triss’ student, one of the few people left on this modern version of the Continent with enough Chaos to manipulate it. Ciri is going to be their student too, and she is excited about it, truly. The knowledge that Robbie will be there also makes her stomach churn. She feels so awkward around the girl, no matter what she is doing. 

Robbie is stubborn and annoying, always having something to say against whatever idea Ciri has. Yennefer keeps saying Robbie is smarter than people assume, and Triss says she is excellent at using her Chaos for healing. Even Lambert has said she was decent at making explosives. Robbie is taking away Ciri’s family and she hates it, hates _her_ , for it. 

“You know swords are outdated right?” Robbie says, blowing a bubble and letting it pop again. “People use guns now to defend themselves.” 

Ciri rolls her eyes. “We aren’t going to stay here forever. And guns are barbaric.” 

Robbie shrugs. “Maybe, but they are more efficient at killing monsters. Though, there aren’t that many of those around anymore.” 

“Well, when we go back, I’ll be the best witcher there ever was, and I won’t need guns for that.” 

“You, a witcher?” Robbie laughs a bit, and Ciri hates that it sounds pretty. How does she even do it? “Come now, that’s ridiculous.” 

“What, because I’m a girl?” Ciri bristles. “I’ll have you know that Vesemir has said there was no rules against girl witchers!” 

“But think about it, Cirilla, girl witchers? In this economy? The world would fall in shambles.” 

Ciri can’t quite decide if Robbie is being serious or not, and it infuriates her. It isn’t hard to read most people, not for her, not here, but Robbie is a mystery and a half. The girl always seems to know how to surprise Ciri best, and how to make sure the former princess of Cintra has no idea where to look to begin understanding her. 

“Don’t call me Cirilla,” she hisses. “It’s Ciri, _Robin_.” 

The girl smiles, all teeth and no joy, but her eyes tell a different story. She is enjoying the exchange, Ciri realizes, and she fights to keep a blush off her cheeks.

“Maybe I like the way you say my name, princess,” Robbie says and winks. “No matter, I have to go get some plants for Yen. See you around, pretty girl.” 

Ciri doesn’t have the time to answer. Robbie is already leaving the courtyard by the time she has recovered from being called a pretty girl. The blush comes to her cheeks now, and she doesn’t stop it. Maybe training alongside Robbie won’t be so awful. 


	6. toss a join (jean coin) to your jitcher (jean witcher)

“Geralt-“ 

“No.” 

The bard pouts as he crosses his arms, giving to the witcher his best pleading expression. Jaskier is wearing one of those strange new tissue the people of this world are so fond of; he thinks it’s called jeans? He isn’t quite sure _what_ that’s supposed to mean, but it does look good on Jaskier. 

“You haven’t even listened to what I had to say,” Jaskier pleads and comes closer. “I’ve got a brilliant idea!”

“All your ideas are brilliant until I have to pluck you from someone’s windows right before dawn.” 

“That hasn’t happened in years!” 

Geralt hums. It’s true that it’s been a long time since that specific scenario has happened; not since they got together, and certainly not since Ciri had pooled all her chaos into transporting them both here. It had taken a little while to adapt to this new world, and they certainly weren’t fond of it; even Jaskier, who thrived on attention, hated all the noise and the mess of this future. They were all, whether Vesemir or Cirilla, Yennefer or Lambert, homesick for their Continent. 

Jaskier had recently started traveling again, having found a traveling fair for the summers, where he could play the lute and work alongside one of the blacksmiths. It was a few months during which he could peer into this strange world, and he would bring back some of the things he wanted to share with his family. He wasn’t the only one to go into the world, they all did, but he was the one who had adapted the best. 

Which is most likely why he is wearing those jeans-things and holding onto one with a pleading expression in his eyes. 

“Come on, love, please? At least, let me tell you my idea.” 

“… Fine.” Geralt relents with a grunt, already feeling the regret building in his throat. “What is it?” 

“Well, I was talking with our lovely Robbie the other day, and she said something that made me think. The people in this age, the youth especially, seems to have a very… strange sense of humour. Robbie used some words that she refused to explain, but then she said something about jeans and items made of jeans, and, well.” He dances on his feet slightly, blush overtaking his cheeks. “And I know we aren’t exactly struggling, you all take odd jobs every now and then but…” 

The bard takes a deep breath and extends to Geralt what he is holding. With apprehension, Geralt unfurls it and finds himself staring at a jean jacket, something he vaguely remembers seeing Robbie wears when she had arrived here. Something is embroidered on the back. It takes him a second to realize it’s a wolf’s head, clearly having been done with painstaking attention. 

“Did you make this?” 

Jaskier blushes again and nods. “Kaitlyn taught me how to do it on this type of material last summer, and I originally only wanted to embroider my own pants, but then I thought… Well, we could try and make some money with you, and your brothers?” 

“How?” 

“Well, you see, Robbie showed me this thing called TikTok? It’s, uh. It’s a thing with videos and stuff, right? And she said that uh, some of the really popular ones can make some money off it? Obviously it wouldn’t be much, but it could be nice to have some extra money, especially since we have no idea how long we will be stuck in this time…” 

“Jaskier, what exactly does that involve, and why am I holding a jean jacket?” 

“Those videos are usually set with a music in the back, and well, Toss A Coin is still somewhat heard sometimes… Apparently Robbie has heard someone who is singing it again on the radio? She said that people really enjoyed when popular songs were um… played with?” 

Ah, here come the regret and fear starting to unfurl in Geralt’s stomach. 

“And I thought, why not do that with Toss a Coin? And jeans?” 

“No.” 

“Come on, we could do something like… joss a coin… No, Toss A Join! To your Jitcher!” 

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” 

“Well, you know, toss a join, jean and coin together, and to your jitcher, jean and witcher combined? That’s why you would wear the jean jacket.” 

“We are not doing such a stupid thing,” Geralt grunts and is starting to leave when Jaskier grabs his elbow. 

“Please, love? Even if we don’t end up putting it up on this uh, TikTok or whatever, it could be fun to do something like that together?” 

Geralt groans and closes his eyes. “Fine. But I’m not dancing.” 

Jaskier grins and kisses his cheeks and lips eagerly. “Thank you! It’s going to be so fun!”

Geralt somewhat doubts that, but if it makes Jaskier happy, he is willing to try. 


	7. so geralt goes from "i will never love, my Duty is far more important" to losing no simp september over the course of like one (1) day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern royalty au, Jaskier & Renfri being the best siblings !

“Renfri,” Jaskier yells throughout the castle, sliding on the wooden floorboard, his pink socks providing excellent traction as he slips down the corridor. 

His sister’s door is left ajar, and he slams into it with his left shoulder. With a yelp, he falls onto the floor, landing on the lush red carpet that covers the floor of Princess Renfri’s floor. 

“Hi, Jaskier,” she says tiredly, not looking up from her book. “What’s up?” 

“I’ve figured out a plan to woo Geralt,” he announces triumphantly, rolling so that he is on his back. “And it’s going to be magnificent!” 

Renfri rolls her eyes and puts down her book, looking at him now, her grey eyes boring holes into his blue ones. They are only ten months apart, which means they have always shared everything, whether it be first kiss or first prank pulled. Jaskier adores his sister, and she adores him. Right now though, as he wiggles his toes in his delightful pink with little red hearts socks, he is pretty sure she is going to throw his book at him. 

“Have you now?” 

“Yes!” 

“Jaskier, brother mine, prince of Creyden, you’ve said that every three days for the last five weeks. In fact, ever since Mother asked the Captain of the Guard as your personal bodyguard, you’ve claimed you could get him in bed with you extra easy.” 

The prince pouts, getting up only to fall back on his sister’s bed. She groans and scoots on the side, allowing him some more space. 

“But you know it’s more now,” he sighs, putting all his longing and wistfulness into it. “I _like_ him.” 

“What are you, five?” 

“Gods, I wish. Life would be so easy if I were only five years old.” 

Renfri snorts. “You would be as much a little shit as you are right now.” 

“Yeah but at least I wouldn’t have to deal with feelings for my bodyguard.” 

She hums and nods, patting his head. “Alright then, give me your plan.” 

Immediately, he lurches forward, standing up as he explains, his hands waving around as he speaks. More than once, Renfri has to duck to avoid getting hit, and she groans, slapping his hands away repeatedly. 

“-and so geralt goes from "i will never love, my Duty is far more important" to losing no simp september over the course of like one day, simply because I’m too amazing.” 

Renfri stares at him for a few seconds, and then groans. “You are the worst.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Why did you have to say it like that, **why**.” 

“Well it’s true! That’s how it’s going to go!” 

“I love you, but gods you are the most stupid person on the Continent.” 

He pouts and falls on the bed again. “Ugh, I hate you.” 

She laughs a bit and messes his hair. “You’ll be fine.”

He groans, loud and dramatic. “I’m going to die alone, still in love with my too gorgeous bodyguard.” 


	8. *vesemir voice* kids these days with their “tiddies” and their “thicc” and-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in the same verse as prompts 5& 6!

If there is one thing that Vesemir has learned since the whole of Kaer Morhen landed in this twenty-first century Continent, it’s that the youth these days was much more outspoken than any of the trainees he has had to deal with before. Even Lambert, who was hell on earth to raise and teach, was quieter than Robbie. 

Unfortunately, that means Vesemir is quite fond of her. She gets on well with Ciri, both of them thinking themselves sleek and discreet with the blushing looks they give each other. As if Vesemir was never young before and had never made eyes at someone. It’s not because he is over three hundred years old that he has never experienced _anything_. 

“Ok,” Robbie is saying as she sits cross legged in the courtyard. “But would you rather slap your dad’s tiddy or hear Jaskier call him thicc? There is a right answer.” 

Ciri laughs a bit. She is sitting across from the young sorceress, mirroring her, although they have two wildly different aesthetics. Robbie is clearly leaning towards a Yennefer type of fashion, with darker colours surrounding her, while Ciri is oscillating between Jaskier’s peacock-like wardrobe and Triss’ more sober and classy one. Thankfully, no one takes after Geralt. Vesemir did see him that morning with a stained t-shirt that Jaskier had brought him from his first year with the fair and his old leather pants that were threatening to crack at any moment. It was _not_ a good look on the white wolf. 

“Ew, Robbie,” Ciri says after a second and kicks her ankle lightly. “Disgusting!” 

“Come on,” the sorceress teases, her eyes fond. “You have to have an opinion! Tiddy or Thicc, that’s the game!” 

Vesemir shakes his head with an amused huff. Kids these days, with their “kiddies” and their “thicc” and who knew what kind of other nonsense. 

Still, it was good to see Ciri let loose like this for once. Vesemir would soon order for training to be picked back up, but for now he let the laughter of his granddaughter wash over him. 


	9. much like bees, the ecosystem can and will collapse without gays

"And here we have two disasters, trying to court one another,” Lambert announces, guide-like, as he walks past Geralt and Jaskier. “It is a fruitless search though, as the mating call of two morons is the desperate cry- Ow! That hurt, Geralt!” 

“Stop saying dumb shit then,” Lambert’s older brother growls. “Get out of here.” 

They are in Jaskier’s workshop, Geralt helping him with one of his latest acquisition. The business of repairing vintage cars is a lucrative one, and Jaskier enjoys it, loves it in fact. He had fallen into it by accident when he was fifteen. He had been involved in some illegal activities at the time, and one of the people whose car he had stolen had decided he would put Jaskier to work rather than pursue him in justice. Alfred Pankratz had saved Jaskier, and had adopted him as his son briefly before Jaskier’s 18th birthday. 

Now, his workshop is Jaskier’s. He is confident in most of what he does, but there are a few times he calls on to friends in the business for outside help. And Geralt of Rivia and his siblings are the best out there… They had a shop, but it had burned down a few months back, and they hadn’t reopened. Jaskier suspects it had to do with the teenager that shadows Geralt’s every movement. The one that is currently giggling next to Lambert. 

“You too, C. Go into Jaskier’s office, it’ll be more comfortable than here.” Geralt directs this to the girl with Lambert, but the girl shakes her head. “It wasn’t a suggestion.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” the girl — C?— says. “You said we could trust your friend.” 

Jaskier straightens up at that. So there _is_ trouble around the girl. He wipes his hands on a cloth and smiles, pushing away a lock of hair from in front of his eyes. 

“You can trust me, little miss, but Geralt is right. My office is more comfortable, and you’ll have a view of this room from there.” 

“I want to stay here,” she insists stubbornly. “Where Geralt goes, I go.” 

Geralt sighs. “Listen, it’s only for an hour. You will be able to see me, okay? No worries. And Lambert will stay with you the whole time.” 

“That’s not fair, I want to learn how to do what you do!” 

“I know, and you will, but for now, safety first. In Jaskier’s office, now.” 

The girl groans, and turns to Lambert. “You’re staying with me?” 

“Anytime, cub.” For the first time since Jaskier met the man, Lambert smiles affectionately and ruffles the girl’s hair. “I have more to show you, regardless.” 

Geralt grunts and turns back to the car. Jaskier bumps his shoulder. 

“Everything alright?” He asks quietly. 

Lambert and the girl move through the workshop, and Geralt nods. 

“And as you can see, in this fragile atmosphere, much like bees, the ecosystem can and will collapse without gays.” 

Next to him, the girl giggles again. Geralt only rolls his eyes, but Jaskier can see a faint blush on his cheeks. Interesting. 


	10. Has anyone seen my fucking gender

“My parents are coming over this weekend,” Aiden yells through the apartment, and they see Lambert’s head pop up from the couch, startled. “This is not a drill, I repeat, my parents are coming over this weekend!” 

“Babe,” Lambert grunts, rolling off the couch and onto the floor. “What’s going on? I thought you didn’t speak to them anymore?” 

“My sister called,” Aiden groans as more of their housemates filter in the living room. Geralt, Jaskier and Yennefer are clearly disheveled, and Eskel is eating an apple, looking annoyed by the disturbance. Oh well. “She is bringing my parents around this weekend because she, and I quote, “think we should make up”.” 

“What kind of drug is she on?” Yennefer asks. “Your parents will _hate_ this place.” 

“We have a pride mural in our kitchen,” Jaskier points out. “Didn’t you say they are homophobic assholes?”

“They **are** , which is why this is an emergency. The weekend is in two days, a little less, and our little safe haven is going to be interrupted by those shit-eating, fucking stains of humanity and-“ 

“Hey, calm down.” Lambert comes to hold them. “Whatever they say, we won’t stop loving you because of that. You are one of us, you know that. We love you.” 

The declaration nearly brings tears to Aiden’s eyes. The surprise visit is starting to have them anxious, their stomach tied up in knots, and only the presence of their partner and friends is helping keep them calm right now. 

“Fine, alright, but we need a strategy because they are ruthless and awful and-“ 

“So, I shouldn’t start yelling “has anyone seen my fucking gender” again?” Jaskier asks, which makes his partners snort a bit. “That’s going to be tough.” 

Aiden would laugh if the thought of their parents being… well, being _themselves_ towards Jaskier didn’t make them feel sick. Jaskier is like a sibling to them, they met in college years ago, and Aiden found a way out of their abusive home thanks to him. If their parents hurt him in any way… 

“Maybe not,” Aiden agrees, shakily. “Listen, if at any point they make any of you uncomfortable-“ 

“If they make you uncomfortable, I’ll throw them out,” Eskel says, calm and unbothered. “And your sister won’t be invited for Sunday brunches anymore.” 

They laugh a bit, trying to keep themselves calm. “Thanks, Eskel.” 

Lambert kisses their head and caresses their cheeks. “I love you, and I don’t care about your parents.” 

Aiden sighs and nods. With friends like these, they can survive anything. 


	11. By Order Of The Witcher Council: Pee Your Pants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one :') Happy birthday to the lovely TAKM server, where i met loving & amazing people <3

Jaskier is getting warmer by the second, and the sensation is becoming quite pleasant. The witchers’ alcohol is strong, the keep is warm, but most importantly, the company is pleasant. He is leaning on Geralt’s large, warm chest, the witcher holding him loosely. It’s comfortable, and the fact that they are both drunk is good, because it excuses the way Jaskier clings to Geralt when the other man attempts to stand up. 

“-then of course the witcher council was like “oh no young one you cannot go out during a storm, you are far too inexperienced,” which was total bullshit naturally,” Lambert is saying, voice slurred by the alcohol running through his veins. “And I said fuck that because I’m an individual and-“ 

“Wait, wait,” Jaskier interrupts. “What do you mean the witcher council? What witcher council?” 

The room stills for a second, and then Eskel guffaws, loud and unabashed. It’s a stark change from when the rest of them had been training earlier. Eskel had been deadly silent then, a silent force while Geralt and Lambert had exchanged quips and angry snarks. At the end, Eskel had assured Jaskier those were all in good fun. 

“Geralt, have you never told him about the witcher council?” Eskel giggles, high pitched. 

Gods they are all so drunk. Geralt snorts shaking his head. 

“Why would I tell him anything about that, the old fucks are all dead anyway,” Geralt grunts out, laying his head atop Jaskier’s. “No need for them in our conversations.” 

“But they are a part of witcher culture,” Jaskier pouts. “Tell me all about it!” 

Lambert giggles with his brother, both of them leaning on each other. “He wants to know,” he singsongs. 

Geralt growls and tightens his arm around Jaskier. “Why do you always want to know about everything?” 

Jaskier nuzzles against him, unashamed from his affection with the alcohol running through his veins. “Because it’s fascinating!”

“It’s boring.” 

Jaskier turns his eyes to Lambert and Eskel and pouts. The two men groan, and look at Geralt. 

“Come on,” Eskel grunts. “Just tell him, he is gonna make us tell him otherwise.” 

“Fucking adorable asshole,” Lambert grumbles. 

Geralt rolls his eyes, or at least Jaskier assumes he does, and his thumb brushes Jaskier’s elbow, a gentle pressure. Jaskier shivers and leans into the touch. 

“They were the authority before the Sacking,” he finally says. “What they said was the rule.” 

“Wait, like, anything they said?”

“Yup,” Geralt answers. “Anything.” 

Jaskier giggles. “So they could say dumb shit and you would have to do it?” 

“Lambert once had to clean up the stables for three months, because he said they could “suck it”.” Eskel grins. “Best three months of my life.”

This sets them all for a bout of laughter once more and Jaskier finds himself completely cozied in Geralt’s arms. 

“So, they could really say _anything_?” Jaskier asks. 

“Don’t say dumb shit,” Geralt grunts. 

Jaskier grins and takes on his most serious, booming voice. “By Order Of The Witcher Council: Pee Your Pants.” 

Lambert laughs so hard he falls on the floor and Geralt groans. The sound resonates through Jaskier as well, and the bard grins. 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Yes,” Jaskier grins. “I am.”


End file.
